


Guardian

by SpicyRedPaladin



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 22:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11633073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyRedPaladin/pseuds/SpicyRedPaladin
Summary: The man in the house across from the Grimes had been watching for as long as Carl could remember, leaving him presents and handing out the best candy on Halloween. But what Carl liked most was that he would make his mother and father stop yelling and how he always seemed to know how the boy felt.Rating, warning, and tags subject to change.





	Guardian

**Author's Note:**

> I know that's a lot of AU's to put together, but this will be well worth it. I promise.

Winter winds blew across the small town, chilling the night. The dark, imposing figure strode the streets silently, his thick coat keeping out the cold. Snow fell around him, dancing in the streetlight like sugarplum fairies. He chuckled, remembering the last he saw The Nutcracker.

The man stopped outside a house with a 'For Sale' sign. It was small and unassuming, unlike the stereotypical Southern style houses surrounding it. Across the street stood the only house with any lights on so close to midnight. A grey, two-story house with white trim and a wide, brick porch.

The lights were on downstairs, and he could hear arguing. He could see how brightly their anger flared even through the thick curtains. Not what he wanted in neighbours, but he couldn't help but notice the small light in the upstairs window. Possibly a flashlight, but no doubt belonging to a child. Up late reading comics, maybe. But that didn't make much sense with his parents yelling like they were.

He looked up at the night sky and back at the small house that was for sale. There was no avoiding it. This is where he needed to be. And so, the next morning, he bought the house across from the grey one.

\-----------

The years passed by the slowly, marked by the changing of seasons. The man in the small yellow house across from the Grimes watched silently over the house, watched the parents fall apart and fight as though their son didn't even exist. He watched Lori, dark violet wisps of smoke coming from her chest, bring home a man, Rick's partner, and watched as she grew big with his child. Watched her tell her husband that the baby was his and that she was sorry. On the nights when he feared for the unborn child and the growing son, he would knock on the door and make up some reason to drag Rick, with bright red fire covering his chest, from the house. The man was a Sheriff, so he usually told him that he thought someone was trespassing in his back yard.

As much as he did to keep the wife safe, most of his focus was on the boy. Carl Grimes was named. A boy of ten when he moved across the street. The man quickly found out where Carl's favourite hiding places in the yard were and snuck over to leave him small presents like toy cars and wooden soldiers. He was never caught, going early in the morning after the parents had finished their yelling. Once, and only once, he had looked up to the boy's window to see him watching with a sweet smile and soft gold sparks of light falling from his chest. The man had smiled back and placed a finger on his lips, a motion that the boy had mimicked. That was the only interaction they had for a long time.

The fighting stopped, occasionally. Only when they came to blows did the two realize what they were putting their small family through. When the baby came, it truly looked like they would set their mutual hatred aside. But the man across the street from the Grimes's household could see Lori's soul dying. She passed in the spring just after the baby was born. He didn't have to be in the hospital room to know that Carl was the one who said they needed to pull her off of life support, blue rain falling from the boy's chest for days after that sad, slow night.

It was fall when they met again. Carl had grown up well, a handsome boy of sixteen on that day. The man watched from his kitchen window as the teen got off the bus, another boy following close behind. A friend from school, Ron Anderson. But the man could see what no one else could. A dark cloud billowed from the boy's chest and he knew he had to stop what was about to happen. The boys disappeared inside, and he tried with all his might to move across the street in time. Just as he came to the door, he heard it. One loud gunshot.

He had to kick the door open, as Carl, ever the perfect son, had locked it behind them. He found them in Rick's room, Carl on the ground, blood spilling from his head, and Ron holding Rick's gun. The conscious teen, still pouring out thick smog, dropped the gun and ran past the man as he hurried to Carl's side, calling 9-1-1 as quickly as he could. He kept as much pressure as he could on the wound. All that he had done would not be ruined there. He cursed again and again as the spark of Carl's soul sputtered, again and again, willing it to stay lit just long enough for him to get help.

He visited Carl in the hospital once the youth woke up. He'd been waiting patiently in the chair at his bedside, watching his soul regaining its lovely golden spark. The nurse had told him, with Rick's permission, that Carl would live but that he had lost his eye. The Sheriff personally thanked him for helping his 'baby', as though Carl were still a child. The other boy, Ron, was arrested, and the man felt strangely good for having done something worthwhile other than making Carl smile.

When Carl regained consciousness, he had looked straight at the man. The man felt himself shiver, the boy's gaze chilling him to the core. Carl asked a lot of questions, where he was, how he'd gotten there, why he was there, and who he was. He answered every question, a smile on his face. When faced with who he was, he simply said he was the man who saved Carl's life. The teen pressed on for his name, and, after almost an hour, he finally gave in.

"Damn, you're fuckin' persistent. Just call me Negan."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of something that I've been thinking of for a while!


End file.
